


Pulling Your Puzzles Apart

by martinfreethebooty



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Dancing, John is sad, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Post-Reichenbach, Sherlock is sad, Songfic, but he's watching it all happen sadly, even the skull, everyone is sad, sad gay babies, though he's not mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 07:16:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1596251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martinfreethebooty/pseuds/martinfreethebooty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wedding was approaching quicker than Sherlock wanted to admit.</p><p>"Maybe, one last dance lesson, Sherlock? For old times sake?" John suggested. John knew what this would mean. Closure.</p><p>Sherlock knew what this would mean. The end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pulling Your Puzzles Apart

The wedding was approaching quicker than Sherlock wanted to admit.

"Maybe, one last dance lesson, Sherlock? For old times sake?" John suggested. John knew what this would mean. Closure.

Sherlock knew what this would mean. The end.

Sherlock down looked into John’s hopeful eyes, unable to deny him this one last request. He had hurt John so much in the past, surely he deserved every ounce of heartbreak he was feeling in this moment.

As Sherlock put his left hand on John’s waist and filled the spaces between his fingers in his right hand with Johns, he felt John stiffen. John, attempting to regain control of his emotions, chokes out when his skin meets Sherlocks, “Don’t we need music?”

Sherlock can’t help but feel a slow, sad, tug at the corner of his mouth as he whispers out a single, “no.” as he brings John closer.

John wants to believe this isn’t happening, wants to believe that everything will be the same, but he knows it won’t. He can’t allow himself to be put in a vulnerable position he always felt he was in with Sherlock. Just as John begins to feel his mourning bubbling up again, Sherlock rests his chin on John’s head and begins humming.

_C,D,F,A_  
 _D,F,Bb_  
 _C,_  
 _C,F,A_  
 _C,F,G_

John is pulled from his sorrowful reverie when they start to sway. Sherlock’s baritone humming the chords in a beautiful, yet, melancholy tone, reverberating throughout the flat. Then he begins to sing.

_"Come up to meet you, tell you I’m sorry_  
 _you don’t know how lovely you are._  
 _I had to find you, tell you I need you_  
 _Tell you I set you apart.”_

It takes everything in John’s power not to pool at Sherlock’s feet, hugging his calves. He can’t do that. Sherlock had John and he just left. Leaving John to grieve. Surely Sherlock can understand why John has to do this. Then he hears Sherlock’s tone pitch a bit as their swaying slows and Sherlock’s cheek is resting by John’s temple.

_"Nobody said it was easy,_  
 _it’s such a shame for us to part._  
 _Nobody said it was easy,_  
 _No on ever said it would be this hard._  
 _Take me back to the start.”_

John can’t hold it back any longer. His breathing is stuttered, his throat closing up, and he can feel a wet patch seeping through his hair on to his scalp. He wraps his arms around Sherlock’s torso and just lets himself inhale his consulting detective who he allowed to come back and haunt him so many times before.

He can’t remember how long he stayed like that. His arm around Sherlock, and face buried in his chest. He had barely registered the fact that they stopped dancing, glorified swaying, ages ago. They just stood there in each others embrace, breathing the other in because this could very well be the last time they allow themselves to be this close to one another.

Just when John resigns himself to living in this moment forever, he feels Sherlock inhale deeply, steeling himself for what’s to come next. Sherlock unwraps his arms from around John’s shoulders and braces his hands on each side of John’s face as he places a featherlight kiss on John’s hairline. Lingering slightly to memorize the honey spiced aroma coming from John. As Sherlock pulls his lips away he uses his thumb pads to clear any dampness lingering on John’s cheeks.

John looks into Sherlock’s pained expression and can hardly pull himself out of the gravitational pull that Sherlock seemed to have John locked in. Waiting for the other to break what seemed like a never ending, wretched, silence. 

John straightens up and whispers, “Well, we’ll always have Baker Street.”

Sherlock gives a slight nod and an, almost, reassuring smile as he then turns and heads for his violin. John takes that as his cue and turns on his heel to exit. As he feels the tearing in his chest while he walks down the steps, he wants to not hear it. He wants to not hear the woeful, yet beautiful chords, being pulled from the Stradivarius.

_C,D,F,A_  
 _D,F,Bb_  
 _C,_  
 _C,F,A_  
 _C,F,G_

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at like 4:30 am and I know it's utter shit and it's my first fic, but please be nice? comments/kudos are always appreciated! I think? I don't know, I'm usually the one giving them out, not asking for them. Fuck. Ok, I hope I didn't make you too sad. Thanks for reading!


End file.
